


Initiation

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fourth Age, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young dwarvish private receives his first true lesson in being a solider.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Nervous practically to the point of dropping his ale, the young dwarvish recruit glanced around the crowded tavern, looking for an open seat where he could sit to enjoy his drink. From every angle his senses were under assault: the pipe smoke that filled the room, the musky smell that hung heavily over the crowded tavern, and the discordant sounds of boisterous conversation and raucous laughter that rang in his ears. His first week in the army wasn't even through yet, and he already felt completely alienated from the rest of his comrades.

He searched up and down through the crowd, and could see no available chairs or stools. Perhaps he'd be better off enjoying his drink outside, where things were quieter… Suddenly, however, a powerful voice elbowed its way out of the din.

“Need to take a load off, lad?”

The fuzzy-faced private sought the source of these words, and found it in an especially smoke-filled portion of the tavern, back in its far corner. Through the haze he could make out five armored forms seated about a circular table… with one of the figures gesturing to an open seat.

In something of a daze, the young soldier nodded and walked timidly over to the table, sitting down slowly and looking over the faces of those whose company he now shared. They were all wrinkled and well-scarred… veterans, with pipes shoved into their mouths and ale flagons at their sides. Why would this group want to import the company of a new recruit like him?

“We had a no-show tonight,” explained the same fellow who had invited the lad over, lowering his pipe from his mouth. It was if he had anticipated the lad's silent question and answered it for him. “So you're our replacement for the evening. Now you should know… the fellow that you're replacing is one of the loudest bastards in the whole division, so you've got big boots to fill. Understood?”

The youth stammered, “Er… aye, aye sir!”

With an amused grin, the veteran shook his head. “Never mind. You won't do for that at all.”

The other four chuckled, and the lad lowered his gaze to his drink. When he looked up, the first veteran had his hand extended.  
“Gram's the name.”

The young soldier paused momentarily… this type of behavior was not typical of the veterans whom he had met. Was it a trick?

The boy pushed his doubts aside and gave Gram's hand a shake. “Biri, sir.”

“Biri! Nice strong shake you've got, there. Come, meet the rest of the group.” One by one, Gram pointed to the others. “Dhor, Rhodim, Bhari, Dugan.”

Each of the four veterans nodded in turn, and Biri emulated the gesture.

“So you're new here, then?” Gram asked before taking a long swig from his flagon.

“Aye… fourth day, sir,” responded Biri tersely.

“Ahh… so you've probably yet to learn a good many things about being a soldier.”

“I don't know many things, nae sir…”

“Then listen in! That's what we're here for, aye fellas?”

The four others nodded in agreement with Gram's statement.

“So… first lesson,” Gram pointed at Biri's flagon, “never leave your ale sitting for that long before taking a drink! It'll lose that fresh kick if you're not careful.”

Biri blinked in surprise, glancing back down at his flagon. “Oh… I see, sir.”

Suddenly Gram brought his fist down on the table. “Then drink up, if ya see it so clearly!”

Startled by this violent movement, Biri grabbed the flagon quickly and shoved it to his mouth. The majority of the ale that came out wound up in his beard rather than his mouth. This drew a mighty laugh from the veterans, causing Biri's face to flush red.

“Hmm… we'll give you more drinking lessons later, lad,” said Gram with a slight grin. “What's most important now's that you learn the true nature of this job of ours.”

Gram's facial expression slowly shifted to one of grim seriousness, and suddenly the mood at the table felt quite different to Biri. He focused in on what his elder had to say, anticipating its importance.

“Lad… the foot soldier's life is miserable, and in many cases short. I know the elders have raised you on tales of the glory of fighting in the army, of all the heroes that have come before you. And I'll admit, every Greenskin that I kill… that makes me feel good… real good. But overall… the big picture, lad… our life is nothing special. Look around this whole room, and you won't see one hero. We're just fodder, see? They pay us our beans and we go out and do the dirty work. So get that through your head now: that's how things work.”

Biri nodded, but at the same time struggled with the enormity of what he had just absorbed. Part of him didn't want to believe… flat out refused the words that Gram had just spoken. Yet another part of him had already acquiesced… this life, this misery would become his. He lowered his head.

Gram's expression softened, and a soft smile showed through his thick beard. “Chin up, lad. I'm not done.”

Biri glanced up, a sort of forlorn hope in his young eyes.

“You know what makes a good soldier, lad?”

Biri shook his head gently.

“Now others will tell you that a good soldier is the one who's the best fighter… or the one who follows orders to the letter. And don't get me wrong, those are both good qualities for a soldier to have... but I think something else is more important. The best soldiers, I believe, are the ones who can look at all that lies in store for them… hard work, low pay, and possibly a death on some lonely battlefield… look at all that… and laugh. They laugh in the face of life and death. Because that's our spirit, lad, that's one thing that's ours. Nothing in life can destroy your spirit unless you let it. Understand?”

Biri's lips tugged upward in a faint smile, and he gave a slight nod.

“Now tell me, lad. Are you a good soldier? After all I've told you, can you still laugh at it all?”

“I… I don't know, sir.”

“Well try! Think about how ridiculous it is for a young pup like you to be stuck sitting with a bunch of old-timers like us. Laugh at us. Think about how silly you look with that ale all over your beard. Laugh at yourself! Laugh at everything about you!”

Biri paused. Then a smirk formed on his face. Then came a chuckle… a chortle… a full-fledged guffaw. Things really did seem absurd to him all of a sudden. Gram and the other four veterans joined him in his laughter, and the sound rose in volume. As their mirth reached a fever pitch, the graybeards raised their flagons and clinked them together above the table. Biri joined the sudden toast belatedly, lifting his drinking vessel to join theirs.

“To life and spirit!” shouted Gram, and the others echoed these words. They then guzzled down their ales. Biri did the same, and this time he got most of the ale in his mouth.

“Lad, you're now an honorary member of the group,” said Gram once the group had finished their drinks. “Now you'd best request a refill for that flagon of yours. The night is yet young!”

And indeed, that first toast would not be the last of the evening.


End file.
